Art from the Heart

Gaza is an ancient Palestinian city built by our ancestors thousands of years ago, on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. It was known for its mild climate, its fertile plain, and its ancient ruins that testify to its resilience and the toughness of its people, who fought great battles written with their blood, and who never hesitated to defend it throughout the ages and time.

My story…
And today, I am Rami, eight years old, from the city of Gaza. I tell you the story of my great city, in which I was born and grew up among its alleys and in its neighborhoods. Since my early childhood, I saw the generosity of its people and their kindness, until all their traits looked alike as if they were one person.

And often my grandmother would tell us about these manners and customs, how in their joys and sorrows they were like brothers—rejoicing for each other’s happiness and grieving as well.

A reality from my story…
For years… Gaza went through difficult days and painful events, some of which I lived through, and some my father—who worked as a journalist—told me about.

Gaza was exposed to wars, conflicts, and famines, and during them it lost the best of its youth and children. Among them were my two uncles, my aunt and her son, my cousins, and friends who sat with me in class before the occupation destroyed my kindergarten where I studied, and my school where I spent only a few days. Then the war came, and with it the machines of destruction that crushed all our dreams that were in my mind—dreams of spending time with my friends in the courtyards and hallways of my school.

Difficult days…
I lived two years with my family between displacement, hunger, and the loss of loved ones, in a small tent my father made from sheets of tin, wood, and cloth. It did not protect us from the cold of winter nor the heat of summer.

But my condition was not hidden from anyone; the whole world saw what happened to us in this war, yet nothing moved.

From beneath the rubble, Gaza blossomed…
And today, after God put out the fire of war, and after years of patience, and with the determination of the people of Gaza and the courage of its men, my beautiful city Gaza regained its glow once again. It returned to embrace its children and restore its glory through the effort of its students, making knowledge a beacon.

And through the giving of its medical teams, they made for it a protective shield. And through the efforts of its police forces, they restored its security and safety. Through the struggle of the workers, its buildings, institutions, squares, streets, and roads were rebuilt. And with the pickaxe and hoe of the farmer, olive and orange trees split the soil of its good land again.

Its greenery returned, and the scent of its orchards spread colors of fragrance, and its birds sang the story of the resilience of this land—whose poets often flirted with it in their words and the pulse of their pens:
“…On this land, there is what deserves life…” — Mahmoud Darwish

And the world began to see the dignity of the small city, growing and flourishing, and creating glory through the rise of its economy, the production of its factories, the strength and will of its workers, the architectural art that rivals the most beautiful cities of the world, and the green squares surrounded by artificial rivers, geometric designs, wide roads, bridges, and overpasses. And today Gaza offers scientific consultations through the minds of its sons and the richness of their experiences in all areas of life.

And Gaza sat upon the throne of progress and civilization, and tourists began to visit it and take souvenir photos throughout the great Gaza.